five times
by Alysse
Summary: She's tempestuous and argumentative, he's charming and charismatic; well, doesn't this story sound familiar? Five times James and Lily don't fall in love, and one time they do.


**author's note**  
Note: this story is old (I wrote it when I was, like, 13, or something - two years ago, now). I simply went back and edited it, and well, I still sort of like this story, so I figured I might as well finally post it on here.

* * *

_You don't love someone because they're perfect; you love them in spite of the fact that they're not._  
- Jodi Picoult

-

**i. pink is a good colour for you**  
(well, pink is _not_ a good colour for _you_)

_Sixth Year, February_

If you're new to Gryffindor, you'll probably be scared out of your wits.

If you aren't, you'll probably be swapping money on the sidelines, gleeful over having accurately predicted the timing of Lily Evans's next explosion at the one and only James Potter - or, more accurately, gleeful over having won money thanks to accurately predicting the timing of Lily Evans's next explosion at the one and only James Potter.

After all, she _is_ currently railing and screaming and hurling insults at him loudly, telling him exactly where he can get off with various expletives tossed in just for good measure. "James Potter, as far as I am concerned, you can go to hell and rot there! For the fifty millionth time, I will _not_ go out with a pretentious pompous prick like you, especially not when you've just dyed all of my clothes bright freaking _pink_!"

"Ooh, alliteration. Look, it even fits with my last name. Potter, the Pretentious, Pompous Prick. Nice, Evans. Besides, the pink suits you."

"I have _red_ hair, James. It's _red_. Pink and red do not go together. Excuse me if you're male and happen to have about the same amount of dress sense the Giant Squid does, but I'm _not_ male, and I happen to care about the fact that red does not, and will not, match this unholy shade of garish magenta."

"I happen to think that Squiddy is quite fashionable. Are you discriminating against marine creatures, Evans?"

With a final glare, Lily Evans attempts to look as dignified and composed as possible after having just exploded in front of half her House, and gives James a sickly smile. "Deflate that head of yours, Potter, and maybe I'll say yes. Until then, since you're so in love with yourself, _go screw yourself_."

"I always did have a thing for narcissism," he tells her.

Not even bothering to reply, she smoothes out her skirt, and shoots over her shoulder, "Might want to look in the mirror, then. Pink's definitely not _your_ colour."

-

**ii. pride, prejudice and the frog prince  
**(haven't you ever heard of foreshadowing?)

_Sixth Year, April_

"I'm not working with him. He'll probably turn my hair green or explode the cauldron or something."

"Professor Slughorn, I feel indebted to you."

"Get away Potter, get _away_."

"Didn't you know, Lily-flower? Aggression is affection."

"Why can't I go with…" she trails off helplessly, looking around the room; there is Sirius Black, who'd, in all likelihood, burn her hair again - and there's Severus, who she forwent a friendship with a year ago, because no one should ever judge another on blood, and she is not, she is _not_, a Mudblood. (The very word makes her blood boil. Because just because someone's not-the-same, doesn't mean they're any _less_ of a person).

"See, Lily-poo? You're in love with me, you're just denying it."

The screech of outrage that Lily emits at this particular nickname near deafens the entire class. "Lily-poo?" she shrieks, nearly upending her table in an attempt to back away even further from James. "Stay. Away. Last time I got paired with you, you broke my cauldron, and spilled your - potion - all over my bag, which smelt like rotten eggs for the rest of the term. And destroyed my copy of Pride and Prejudice. As in, my _favourite book_. Which, you know, you can't buy at Hogsmeade because it's a _Muggle _book? And there's also the fact I loathe you. So _stay away_."

"Denial is not healthy, Lils."

The hex that she aims at him is not-exactly-unexpected, but it catches him off-guard all the same.

A smile bubbles onto Lily's lips. "I think I like you better as a frog."

-

**iii. identity theft is strictly not condoned  
**(falling in love is only as hard as you make it)

_Seventh Year, September_

"You're Head Boy."

"Yes."

"Head. Boy."

"Yes."

"As in, _the_ Head Boy."

"Yes."

"What about Remus?"

"I killed him and hid his body and proceeded to steal his identity."

"Funny, Potter. I'm working with _you_?"

"Well, yes."

"Why can't you, I don't know, stay out of my life?" she demands.

"Thanks for the offer, but I'll have to decline."

"Does this mean I have to be nice to you?"

"Possibly."

Crossing her arms, Lily suppresses the urge to run and cower under a chair. She's not actually angry; just surprised and a little fearful for the sanctity of what will soon be her non-existent sanity. "Well, I suppose we should try getting along then… like, starting over?"

"Probably. Hello, I'm James Potter."

"I'm Lily Evans," she says in turn, the words tumbling out of her mouth slowly.

She suddenly gets the feeling that maybe she just might get to keep her sanity, after all.

-

**iv. merry Christmas to you, too**  
(idiot buttons still trump nancy drew, didn't you know?)

_Seventh Year, Christmas_

"I got something for you."

She looks up in surprise, and smiles softly. "I got something for you too, surprisingly."

This is something she had never expected in a million years. In forever. This time last year, she'd been screaming abuse at James Potter for tormenting a First Year. This time last year, she hated him - not the sort of hate that could be mistaken for _like_ (not love, because Lily's not a Disney-ever-after girl, and she's never ever been), but _hate_. This time last year, she'd never imagined that somewhere underneath the annoyingly messy black hair and glasses and always rumpled shirt, there was actually a heart. Yet, here she is, exchanging presents with him with a silly, stupid smile on her face, trading civilities and pleasantries like it's second nature to her, like they're - oh God, _friends_. Because, she realises with a skip of a heartbeat, maybe it _has_ become second nature, and maybe they are, God forbid, something like friends.

She carefully opens the not-so-carefully wrapped present, and raises an eyebrow at James. "It's, um, nice."

It is painstakingly clear from the cover that James knows next to nothing about Muggle literature.

She thinks she probably outgrew Nancy Drew when she was ten.

All the same, she can't deny the fact that it's sweet, and she smiles again. "Here."

James looks at his brand new flashing 'Idiot' button and looks back at her book. "Damn, knew I should have gotten you something cheap, too."

"Hey, that button happened to cost me ten Sickles. And at least it's shiny and glittery. Didn't you say you like shiny and glittery?"

"Says Miss. Cheapskate."

Laughing, she pulls a face at him.

She would give anything to keep this state of mind forever.

-

**v. sadly ever after**  
(no one said disney got things right)

_Seventh Year, February_

It's been two months and four days since their last spat, and half of Gryffindor is several Galleons poorer this time round.

"I cannot believe you."

"Lily-"

"That's Evans to you."

"Look, I-"

"Shut the hell up, please."

"I swear to Merlin-"

"Well, James, don't you remember? _I_ don't swear by Merlin. I swear by God. There's a difference there. You know, because I'm a Muggleborn? And because that somehow makes me _not good enough_?"

He swallows. "I didn't mean that. I just didn't think - it's -"

"I thought you were different, you know, just maybe. Guess I should have stuck to my gut feeling after all. Go to hell, James."

She is angry and she is infuriated, but most of all, she's a little shattered and crushed - she feels sick, almost, sick to her stomach. She doesn't know _what_ it is that has decided that she always, always, always ends up trusting in people when she really, really shouldn't.

Maybe she never was a Disney girl, but even a cynic can still have some hope for that fairytale ending.

Lily Evans is learning - the hard way - that fairytales don't always necessarily have happy endings.

-

**vi. it's still kissing**  
(honestly, it's not all that surprising)

_Seventh Year, March_

They're by the side of the Great Lake this time, as opposed to the Gryffindor Common Room, but they're still not exactly at peace with one another yet - at least, Lily isn't.

"I'm sorry."

"Go to hell."

"I mean it. I _am_ sorry."

She twirls around, a glare simmering in her eyes. They're not quite the bright green he's been used to describing her eyes as; they're, now that he looks more closely, a little more hazel than he'd thought.

"Say that like you mean it."

"I'm sorry for saying what I did. I was jealous and I overreacted and…"

She stares in incredulity. "Jealous? Why?"

"Because he's a prick who doesn't deserve you but you still go out with _him_, and I actually still like you, so I sort of lied when I said I didn't, and you only ever go out with assholes, and I know I'm an asshole, but I don't see why _they're_ okay but I'm not."

"Because I thought you liked me because I was hard to get or whatever it is that you call it. I'm not your usual type of girl, James."

The slip-up causes him to hesitate, and she stops.

"But you'd never say yes to me. You said it yourself."

"That's because the James that did ask was a superficial, vapid jerk! And the James that I _did_ like didn't like me back, so _clearly_-"

From the shade of the giant oak tree, Frank Longbottom grins at Alice Callahan. "I win," he whispers triumphantly, pointing to the couple on the other side of the lake. "Hand the money over."

She laughs quietly. "By," she says, glancing at her watch, "three minutes. And honestly, it's not all that surprising. With that level of tension, what did you expect?"

"So? I still said they'd start making out before two o'clock. And I was right. It's 1:57."

Alice groans. "I don't call that making out. I call that eating each other's faces. Honestly, it's not all that surprising."

"It's still kissing."

-

**an epilogue;**

**happily ever after, or close enough.**

_Seventh Year, May_

She twirls and spins and glides on air. If she could, she would store away all this euphoria and keep it in a bottle underneath her pillow for the times she needs it most. She's always been more of an autumn girl, but she'll take spring all the same.

Days by the lake curling up with Austen. Days under the oak tree whispering secrets with Mary and Alice. Days of friendly bickering with James that always end up, somehow, with her hair messy and her face flushed and her friends with huge, teasing grins on their faces.

She doesn't think she ever wants to leave this behind.

"Ballerina today, are we?"

She spins around and laughs, burying her face in James's shoulder. "I can't believe we're graduating so soon."

"I can't, either, but we'd better."

The silence that follows simmers away, and she twists her skirt with her hands nervously. There are so many things she needs to say, but can't really put into words, so she leaves them unspoken and kisses him instead. He frames her face between his hands and gives her that charming, dazzling smile that makes her feel likes she's walking fifty feet off the ground.

"I'm going to miss you," she says finally, looking away and then back at him. "Like, really miss."

"What are you talking about? I'm going to stick around for the rest of your life." He trails a kiss down her hand. "It doesn't matter that you're independent and don't need a Prince Charming. Even if you suddenly turned fat and ugly and got acne, I'd still want to be yours, anyways."

Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she laughs into his shirt. "Are you saying I'm not fat and ugly?"

"How could you be?"

And it's not quite _I love you_, but she's never really believed in teenage love, anyways. But, she thinks with a smile bubbling onto her lips, it's close enough, and for now, close enough is just fine. And maybe it's not quite happily ever after she used to dream of as a little girl, but she never was looking for perfection.


End file.
